


Full English

by Writing-Classic-Rock (writingfanfic)



Category: The Monkees, The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Breakfast, Davy would make nice breakfast - burned but nice, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 12:28:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11828769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-Classic-Rock
Summary: For the prompt: 'Hello! Can you please write a Jonesmith fic (okay, i love this pairing) what is really domestic and fluffy and stuff, with special pressure on the height difference? Thank you, you're fantastic by the way! ^^'TOLL TOLL AND SMOLL SMOLL.





	Full English

“Davy, what the hell are you doin’?”

Davy looked down at the hob critically, before looking back up at Mike who stood, squinting with tiredness, in the doorway.

“Playing scrabble,” he hazarded, and Mike closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No, Mike, I’m making breakfast! I’m… it’s… have you ever had a full English?” Mike smirked, eyes still closed, and Davy felt his cheeks flush. “Not like that…”

“Sure. Whatever. What does this ‘full English’ entail?”

“Well, I’m doing sausages, bacon – you Yanks have no idea how to do bacon, by the way – some scrambled eggs, mushrooms, a tin of baked beans, toast…” Davy stopped as Mike’s arms slid around his waist and a kiss was pressed to the top of his head, causing his cheeks to flush even more. “You cut that out.”

“Y’all woke up at eight a.m. an’ we ain’t even filming, just to make me breakfast?” he asked, and Davy nodded, suddenly very interested in the slightly-charred pan of meat. “Wow, Davy. Could almost’a fooled me into thinkin’ you were a romantic.”

“Bastard,” Davy muttered, and Mike spun him around. “Hey…!”

Mike kissed him, and Davy melted into his arms, hands lifting up to cradle the taller man’s face as Mike bent his head a little; Davy’s fingers played over the faint stubble on Mike’s jaw, and then he jumped a little as the older man’s teeth sank into his bottom lip.

“Made ya jump,” Mike grinned, and Davy grabbed his cheeks, pulling him closer and kissing him again; Mike was nearly bowled over, and as he grabbed Davy’s arm to steady himself, something went  _pop_  very loudly.

“…?” Davy blinked, and Mike stared.

“Is your bacon s’posed to be on fire?”

“No,” Davy said, and then dived for the hob, grabbing a teatowel. “Uh… do you like your food well done…?”


End file.
